


The E Street Band

by grey2510



Series: Misc SPN One Shots (<10k words) [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Everybody Lives, Gen, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, The Empty, Walmart E, hints of Saileen and Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: Eileen's not entirely sure where she is, now that she's...dead. But is she really dead? She's made friends here, she has a job, and the place isn't so bad, even if no one wants to go to that store across the street. And besides, what if there's a way out of here? A way back home?





	The E Street Band

“I’m clocking out,” Eileen says to her manager as she pulls the green apron over her head. It’s the exact same apron that she stole during her undercover stint as a maid at Oak Parks. She’s not sure how it ended up here, but she tries not to ask too many questions. No one really seems to have any answers, anyway.

Her manager, an intense guy named Victor, who perpetually seems baffled and frustrated by the fact that he works the evening shift at a Wendy’s, gives her a nod, then goes back to doing inventory and making up schedules like he’s planning a police raid.

Then again, Eileen doesn’t know how _she_ ended up working here. Well, not exactly. It’s all kind of fuzzy.

E Street is lit by obnoxious orangey streetlights and Eileen buttons up her coat to the top even though the night air is a constant 70 degrees—not too hot, not too cold. All you need is a light jacket. She smirks to herself at the thought. No one else is around to get the joke, so she might as well laugh at her own.

Across the street looms the Walmart, but she tries to avoid it if she can. There’s just something...off about the people who work there. They’re all too stiff and act like they just walked out of a boardroom. Except for the Pepsi delivery guy: he’s just the opposite. It’s like he actually _enjoys_ working there and is constantly upbeat...but in a way that makes you wonder just what he’s _really_ up to.

It’s a short walk to the bar, but the time seems to stretch interminably. She could have been walking for days, years—it wouldn’t matter. In any case, the windows are lit up with neon beer logos, and she can feel the bass of the music in her bones. Once inside, she squeezes her way past the other patrons, finally making it up to the bar and half-falling onto a stool next to the one person she’s actually started to get to know in this place.

“Beer?” Charlie asks her and Eileen nods. The redhead doesn’t know many signs yet, but she’s learning, and Eileen appreciates the effort. They’re both about to flag down the bartender, but the blonde—Jo, Eileen thinks is her name—slides a bottle across the bar top with a smile. “How was work?”

By the way the music is almost physically assaulting her, Eileen is thankful she’s deaf, and that she can read lips—it’s going to be much harder on Charlie to understand her responses.

“Fine,” she says and shrugs.

Charlie starts to say something, but Eileen gets distracted by a man she recognizes by name and reputation alone sidling up to the bar behind Charlie.

“Scotch. Your best,” he says to the bartender—not Jo, who nods with a wary eye before finding a tumbler and getting a bottle from the shelf behind her.

“Crowley?” Eileen says, and catches the wide eyes of Charlie when she recognizes the name.

The redhead spins and exclaims something—Eileen can’t tell what now that she isn’t facing her, but Charlie’s hands go wide.

“Ah, Charlie Bradbury. You’re the one who cracked the—"

The rest of what Crowley says is blocked from Eileen by a random flanneled arm reaching between them to grab a drink from the bartender. Eileen scowls in the man’s direction, even if he doesn’t notice before moving off towards the pool tables. Pool table, singular, that is: there are two tables, technically, but one of them seems permanently reserved as a mulleted individual’s bed. Gently, Eileen pushes against Charlie’s arm, and she looks back at Eileen, smiles sheepishly, and pushes back from the bar a bit so that Eileen can see all of them and follow the conversation.

“So have you seen Mother around?” Crowley asks before taking a sip of whiskey. “Or is this too lowbrow for the likes of her?”

Charlie shakes her head. “Haven’t seen her. She dead?”

“Allegedly.” Crowley locks eyes with Eileen. “Eileen Leahy, I presume? The latest and greatest of Sam Winchester’s tragic flings?”

“Fuck you,” she spits out. Hellhounds. Something about Hellhounds...

“If that’s your thing.” He pauses for a moment, and then, as if he can read her mind, says, “The Hellhounds. I apologize. If I had known...well...perhaps…” He frowns with remorse, letting his words trail off.

She nods, if only because she doesn’t _quite_ remember it all—just hazy and dim memories of running and running and falling and the scent of sulphur. Besides, the demon actually looks regretful, if that’s possible. And do grudges really matter in this place, anyway? Wherever this is?

Something in the atmosphere of the bar changes, and Charlie and Crowley both look towards the exit. Eileen follows their gaze, but whatever it is that has drawn their attention, it’s also drawn the attention of everyone in the place; the windows are completely blocked by everyone staring outside. Without a word, the three of them push their way to the exit and step outside into the unsettlingly pleasant air. Nothing looks different about E Street itself, but a new figure stands between the Wendy’s and the Walmart.

The figure is glowing. Mostly blue-white, but with hints of gold as well. Blue eyes look between the Walmart on one side of the street and the Wendy’s and bar on the other, as if deciding where to go next. Finally the glow subsides to reveal a man, just shy of six feet, Eileen would say, in a suit and trenchcoat. Beside her, Charlie gasps and clutches Eileen’s arm briefly before letting go and running up to the man.

Surprised, he embraces her in a hug.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Crowley mutter something to the effect of, “I’ll be damned.”

Puzzled, Eileen looks back at the man. She’s never met him before, but suddenly the description clicks: the angel the Winchesters are friends with. Castiel.

Crowley takes a step towards the angel and Charlie, who has since pulled back from him but is still clutching his forearms and talking animatedly, and Eileen makes to follow the demon when the whole world shudders like an earthquake. A bright light flashes and Eileen instinctively ducks with her arm up over her eyes.

It’s gone in an instant and the world is still once more, save for a faintly pulsing sliver of light, hovering over the road. Slowly, she straightens up and sees—

“Sam?” she chokes out. “Dean?”

Because there they are, standing in the middle of the street just a few feet behind Castiel and Charlie. Sam’s head snaps up at his name in her direction, and he dashes over to her. Strong arms take her in and she realizes just how much she’s missed them. Him.

She’s vaguely aware of a similar reunion nearby with Dean and Castiel. And Charlie, in a different way. Eventually, she pulls back, just in time to catch Dean giving Crowley the most cursory of nods in greeting, a gesture that the demon returns.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Sam asks, still in shock.

She nods. “I think so. We all have.”

“All?” He turns to Charlie, who echoes Eileen’s nod.

Dean’s eyes have barely left Castiel’s, but even he looks up at this revelation. His hand never leaves Cas’ arm.

Crowley, of course, breaks the moment entirely. “Well, that’s enough of a touching reunion for me. Now before this turns bloody maudlin, shall we make our way home?”

“Home?” Dean asks, raising a brow at the demon, who rolls his eyes.

“Yes, home. I still do plan on making good on my promise to close up Hell, be your new bestie. But I can hardly do that _if I’m stuck in this hellhole!_ ”

For some reason, Eileen bristles a little at that. Sure, this place is weird, but it’s not _that_ bad. Charlie, however, looks indignant.

“Hey, buster,” she says, storming over and poking a finger in the demon’s chest, “I’ve been here for _two years_. You’ve been here five seconds. You don’t get to say a frakking thing.”

Crowley relents with a mixture of amusement and irritation. “Oh, I do like you, Red.”

Charlie scowls with her arms crossed.

Suddenly, a truck pulls up next to them. The goddamn Pepsi truck. Its driver throws it into park so quickly that it shudders a little before said driver bounces out of the cab to join the party.

“Heyo!” he greets them, arms open. “Miss me?”

“Gabriel?” Castiel peers at the shorter man.

“In the flesh. More or less.” Gabriel (apparently) waggles his eyebrows.

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam purses his lips. Castiel, however, hugs the man, who awkwardly pats him on the back. After a moment, Castiel steps back and Gabriel looks around at the group.

“So, you guys heading back or what? I’ve been _dying_ to pop back over, see how things are going on.”

“No,” Sam and Dean both say vehemently.

“Aw, c’mon, I’ll be good. Plus, it’s not like I’ll _stay_. I got a job, you know?” He hooks a thumb in the direction of the truck and the Walmart. “But it’d be nice to get a break from those bozos now and again.”

Castiel frowns. “They’re not coming back, either.”

Gabriel laughs. “Those guys? Oh hell no. Besides, Uriel can’t afford the time off, not if he wants to make Assistant Manager. He and Hester are neck and neck and hoo boy does Raphael drive some strong competition for Employee of the Month.”

“Whatever,” Dean says. “C’mon, human-only jailbreak. We’re getting outta here.”

“And demon,” Crowley adds.

Castiel just glares at Dean, who blinks the blink of someone who has just realized he’s going to be sleeping on the couch for a few nights.

“Ok, humans and Crowley and my _favorite_ angel,” Dean says with an exaggerated look in Castiel’s direction.

“Aw, thanks, Deano,” Gabriel grins deviously, clapping Dean on the shoulder; Dean makes an impressively annoyed fishface. “Hear that, Cassie? I’m his _favorite_.”

“I will find a way to smite you,” Castiel says simply, but doesn’t seem all that upset. Dean’s hand on his arm probably helps.

Speaking of…

Eileen slips her hand into Sam’s. He looks down and grins. And with that, they move to the still faintly pulsing portal, the rest of the bar’s patrons following.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Coldest Hits! Here's [June's prompt](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/161216626635/junes-prompt-posting-dates-15-18th-of-june).
> 
> Also, much thanks to Scout, aka. @[consulting-cannibal](http://consulting-cannibal.tumblr.com/), who let me borrow [Walmart E](http://consulting-cannibal.tumblr.com/tagged/the-walmart-that-is-The-Empty) for a hot second.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> Check out my other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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